


Progress I

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Humor, Swearing, a very Sith approach to teaching, is that warning enough, my terrible sense of, overseer Sar's general level of tact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Overseer Sar and Master Timmns give a review of their students' advancement.(No one was hurt in the making of this fanfic.)





	Progress I

 

 

It’s possible that Sar has had daydreams about the time when his progress reports were an afterthought and consisted of notes like ‘Sent my class to retrieve data from the K’lor’slug breeding grounds. Six of them got back. Don’t know where they left the rest, maybe they’ll turn up. On an unrelated matter, contact me about my schedule should the next shipment of recruits arrive early. I might have an opening.’

So much less hassle than what he has to deal with here and that was _before_ he drew the short straw on personnel reallocation.

Although he likes to think he’s getting better at this meeting nonsense.

 

“You are impossible!”

“At least I’m not setting them up for _slaughter!”_

“No, you're just running them into the ground! I should-"

“You should _what_ , Jedi?”

 

Whomever decided matching up the two Force instructors who are trying to glare each other to death across their supervisor’s desk, if their name ever gets out they’ll regret it. Every other person who has to deal with them already does.

They have clashed on and off since they were paired. Sar has the disposition of a rancor with a toothache on his best days and the bullheadedness to match. Timmns in turn is not the type to take his shit lying down and gives as good as he gets once his patience runs out.

It's a turbulent combination.

Even Master Za’uir, whose serenity is the next best thing to blaster-proof, is starting to show signs of wear.

His nose is twitching in a way the Sith, to his own resigned annoyance, reads as ‘agitated’. “I really don’t think that is the way to resolve your-“ The valiant effort to pour oil on the troubled waters is largely ignored.

“I have a damned name and so does Akonda!”

Sar scoffs. “I’ll learn their names when they make it through the first month.” He says it with the disdain of someone used to getting three live graduates out of a dozen potentials and raising the average while he’s at it. “Which they won’t with how you’re _mollycoddling_ them. _“_

“Why, you-!”

That’s apparently the last straw for their point of contact cum referee. “ _Master Timmns.”_

The Mirialan visibly catches himself. With a shuddering breath he closes his eyes and _bleeds_ emotion into the Force.

“And _you_ , overseer. You are both learned individuals and I expect better-"

“ _Kriff_ that _fragging fierfek_!”

“That’s _enough_!”

Confronted with _that_ tone, Sar catches a clue and shuts his damned mouth. If only he had the luxury not to give a shavit. He knows exactly what awaits him if he pushes too far.

At this point he’d rather try his luck against the armies of Zakuul by himself than endure another group session that requires him to talk about his _feelings_.

Most Sith on base would. Considering their collective pain tolerance, it’s safe to say Lord Hargrev has never had this much leverage in his life, apart from a few of his highest points of sadistic fuckery.

He’s making them eat Sar’s challenge by the syllable.

Za’uir, blissfully (and possibly wilfully) ignorant of the fact that at least one of the people he is trying to assist would, faced with the choice between torture and a heart-to-heart, pick the first and thank him for the privilege, claps his furry little paws.

“That’s much better. What exactly brought this on?”

Sar grits his teeth. He shouldn’t have said a damned thing. Why does he even care? Let them use their apprentice potentials for cannon fodder if they like, it’s all the same to him-

“ _Well?_ ”

Like a knee jerk reaction the words are out before he can stop them. “Timmns won’t let me discipline the Jedi learners.” It sounds even more petulant aloud than in his head. _Ugh. This is what I’ve been reduced to. Unbelievable._

Za’uir’s ears perk up. That’s… not a gesture Sar has seen before. Could mean anything from surprise to a one way ticket to _sensibility training_.

_Kriff me. Not again.  
_

 

It’s an open secret that their mixed classes have segregated seamlessly, where those with previous training are concerned. They flock to whomever will further their studies and, incidentally, isn’t an _enemy_. The teachers in charge look the other way.

Quite frankly most Jedi aren’t interested in taking on acolytes, save the few who wish to sway them toward the Light, and the Sith instructors have no time to waste on padawans if they’re not allowed to make them run the gauntlet. If the inventor of the adjusted curriculum hoped for diversification they weren’t going to get it any time soon.

 

Za’uir ventures into a question, with the care of someone navigating a minefield. “And you have reason to attempt that?”

“Yes!” He does and to Sar’s chagrin it isn’t that he gets off on making lightsiders cry. “They are _terrible_!”

Those pointy ears perk a little more and swivel toward him. Absently, the Bimm tuts a fresh wash of outrage from his fellow Master to silence. “No interrupting! Overseer Sar is talking now. Even if he should remember that we try not to use generalisations. Judgement isn’t constructive.” His gentle criticism makes the recipient twitch. “What is the problem as you see it? Please be as specific as you can and associate it with the response it invokes in you.”

There’s little room to escape that trap if Sar doesn’t want to end up volunteered for a rerun of the communications elective and he’d crawl through a _shyrack cave_ to avoid that.

As if every word is dragged out of him by force, he corrects himself. “Some of our students have… _learning gaps_ that make me,” he can practically feel a part of his spirit wither, “ _concerned_.”

“Very good! How would you address this concern, Master Timmns? Please assume that it is valid. Having an open mind is very important.”

At least it’s highly satisfying that Timmns seems to be no happier than himself with being pressganged into sharing. His tattered calm does little to hide his distaste. “Fine. I... recognize that not all of them are on the level they should be. Sadly that’s unavoidable. They will learn.” The Mirialan’s blue eyes flash dangerously. “That’s no excuse to _bully_ them!”

“ _Bully them_? That bantha is a frelling menace!”

“Akonda’s a _beginner_!”

“He’s a damned liability!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! His katas aren’t perfect yet, so what!”

“ _He knows the karking kata!_ ”

That claim seems to stun Timmns enough to take the wind out of his sails. Sar barrels on, in the absence of opposition. “He’s overshooting because he thinks it will impress the girls! Are you fucking _blind_!”

He runs out of steam, breathing heavily. Now that it’s out he has no idea how to continue. The Jedi is staring at him as if he has never seen him before. “What, really?”

Sar rubs both hands over his face with a sound that’s too exasperated to be a growl. “I’ve been _trying_ to tell you that!”

“You’ve been _cursing at me_ about someone whom you can’t be bothered to remember as more than ‘the clumsy one with the spots’!”

“What does either of that even matter!”

Timmns makes a few aborted attempts at answering, disbelief stark on his face.

 

Why he’s so caught off guard is anyone’s guess. Three repetitions of ‘Why mutual respect is a key value to intercultural relations’ and his co-instructor could still finance the overhaul of their training equipment by the installation of a swear jar.

 

The resulting quiet is rather meditative.

Master Za’uir hums, softly. “I see, I see. Overseer, would you say that Akonda is Master Timmns most problematic student?” There’s a thoughtful quality to the inquiry that sets Sar on edge. It never means good things when the moralizing wompr- Bimm. When the Bimm gets thoughtful.

But they are, technically, here to report on their pupils. Which is how he landed himself in this mess in the first place but he hasn't backed down from a challenge in his _life_.

“Pfff. Not really.”

“Very well. Who would that be then?”

He pauses to give that some consideration. Faces pass before his minds’ eye, matched to their bad habits. There are a lot of those but in the end it’s an easy choice.

Sar can’t suppress a grimace. “The wallflower. The one hugging the back.” He snaps his fingers at his fellow tutor. “Can’t complete a sequence and always hopes you won’t see him kriff up. You know the one.” 

With every indication of longsuffering resignation Timmns puts a hand to his face. “ _Hoshi_.”

“I guess?”

Za’uir ignores the other Jedi’s groan with equanimity. His attention is on the Sith instead, an intensity that belies his placid nature glinting in his beady eyes. “So, Hoshi is the one having the most problems. Why do you think that? Because of his placement?”

 _I wish._ “Because he doesn’t _pull through_. If he pushed past the discomfort his exercises would be fine! That’s not a mistake it’s a damned pattern.” That waste of talent is a criminal shame. If Sar had any say in the matter he’d string the twerp up by the ankles and shake his hesitation out of him. A little pain never hurt anyone.

But _no_. He has to play _nice_.

“Oh dear, that does sound like a dilemma. What about Master Timmns’ most accomplished student? Which one is that?”

Now _this_ Sar doesn’t even have to think about. “The little firecracker squid.”

Timmns looks like that description alone causes him physical agony. “I’m going to assume with that piece of insensitivity you mean _padawan Juiinta._ ”

“Green-ish, headtails, glares at me as if she wishes she could set me on fire every time I open my mouth?”

“ _Yes_.”

“That’s the one.”

“She’s _Nautolan_.”

“You knew exactly who I meant!”

“That’s not the _point_!”

 

 


End file.
